


I am a Gentleman; You can be a Prick

by caimani



Category: The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimani/pseuds/caimani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Beckett is an information broker and Gabe is a detective who wants more than a professional relationship between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am a Gentleman; You can be a Prick

As an information broker, Bill occasionally receives customers who are too rushed or desperate to make a proper appointment. When this happens, he usually hears a warning message from Jack or Tony several minutes before they barge into his office. 

This gives him time to clear his desk of anything incriminating and to refresh himself on any potential blackmail material he has on his visitor. Reaffirming that he is the most powerful person in the room is best for his image and for his company. 

Bill doesn’t get that today. 

He’s busy when the interruption comes. Michael has brought in a slim briefcase packed with dirty twenties which need to be moved around through enough transactions to keep a clean appearance. Bill and Michael are separating wads of the money with carefully gloved hands. As they work, Bill gives his feedback on the trustworthy contacts that Michael suggests. 

“Tom will get you most of it back within a week at the latest,” Bill murmurs and taps his fingers on a large stack of the money. “Mike’s guys will take a bigger cut, but you can also send a lot of this his way. As for Pete…” Bill trails off when the room is suddenly filled the sound of heavy knocking that imitates the beat of a year-old pop song.

“William Beckett!” shouts an all-too-familiar and far-too-cheery voice. “Guess who’s here to see you!” William clenches his fist and makes a mental note to ask Tony _why the hell_ he let Detective Saporta in without any sort of warning.

Michael narrows his eyes at the door and quietly packs the money back into the briefcase. Without a word, he tucks the case under his arm and slips out of the office through the narrow door to the closet. Hidden at the back of that closet is a secret door to a currently-locked storeroom in the corner of the second floor, where Michael can wait for the detective to leave. The door shuts behind him with a soft click.

Bill has just enough time to remove his gloves and tuck them away into a desk drawer when Saporta decides to rudely open the door. He’s alone, just like every other time he’s come to see Bill (with the exception of their first meeting, when he arrived with Detective Novarro and was silent for a full three minutes while he stared at Bill). 

“Hello, Detective Saporta,” Bill says coolly, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair.

Saporta swaggers across the room, plants his ass on the edge of Bill’s desk, and pulls his right knee up to lay across the surface of the desk. It Bill takes more willpower than usual to keep from reaching for his Magnum and firing off a warning shot into Gabe’s calf.

It would get blood on the carpet, Bill reminds himself. He still scowls unpleasantly at Saporta, although the gesture has absolutely no effect on the private investigator.

“Bill Beckett,” Saporta grins down at Bill. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen your pretty face. You should get out more. I’m free this evening if you’d like to come over to my place and—”

“Forever? It’s been four days since you were here harassing Jack,” Bill interjects. He glances at a pen and a purple rectangle poking out of Saporta’s pocket. “Anyway, if you were _really_ free this evening, you wouldn’t be here with your case notebook. I’m sure it’s full of questions that Detective Asher wanted you to ask me. Did she make you put it in a place where I could see it? How kind of her,” he smirks as Saporta’s grin starts to fade. “What’s stumping your agency this time?”

Saporta twists around on the edge of the desk and eyes his notebook with a note of disdain. “Maybe next week. Saturday? I’ll definitely be free by then.”

Bill shrugs. “Maybe.”

Saporta’s smile returns in full strength. He swings his left leg up onto the desk and braces himself up on hands and knees. His shoulder bumps the edge of the computer monitor, which is thankfully positioned at the right side of Bill’s desk. Saporta slides his palms forwards until he reaches the edge of the desk, then he taunts, “Your _Maybe_ sounds a lot like a _Yes, but I’m trying to be cute and make our chat last longer, Gabey_.” 

“You seem very sure of yourself there, _Gabey_.” Bill shoots back.

“You haven’t said I’m wrong yet,” Saporta winks. 

“I certainly haven’t said you’re correct.”

Saporta draws back a tiny distance. “I’m cool if you want to stay in charge, Bill. I’m _flexible_ like that. Just tell me what you like. Either here, or you can call me later. You know my number.” He takes a hand off the desk for a moment so that he can brush it against Bill’s hair before using it to hold himself up again. Once more, Bill craves to get the Magnum. He doesn’t need to use it to shoot Saporta; just to put him back in his place. 

That place being on the floor at Bill’s feet. Perhaps being skullfucked by the barrel of the gun. 

Undaunted and amused, Bill leans forwards until he’s close enough to smell mint on Saporta’s breath. “You can call the office and ask Tony for that information, Detective. He would cost far less than I would.”

Saporta cocks his head. “I thought Tony’s cute little blonde kid is the one that I’d have to pay to have a night with.”

Bill raises an eyebrow. “Cute, huh? I wasn’t aware that you think that of him.” Saporta looks like he’s about to argue, so Bill speaks quickly to prevent that. “You’re right though. Adam _is_ very pretty and he’ll definitely have sex with you on the first… date, if that’s what you want to call it.” 

“Whoa, I’m not interested in that.”

“And yet you’re trying to set up a date to have a _night_ with me. I’m not that easy, _Detective_ Saporta.”

Saporta’s fingers drum softly at the edge of the desk. He presses his lips together tightly and narrows his eyes coyly. “So all the times I’ve come all the way over here to see you--all those times when I just wanted to chat--none of those were dates?”

“I was working all of those times,” Bill retorts. “Invading my office doesn’t count as a date.”

Bill is pleased that Saporta hasn’t backed off. The man still needs to learn his place, but Bill likes his enthusiasm. He’ll like it even better when he has Saporta naked, stretched out with leather restraints, and begging for Bill to replace the barrel of his gun with his cock. 

Saporta grins and leans closer so their noses are barely touching. “What about when I ran into you a month ago at that cafe when you were getting your tea? Wasn’t that an impromptu—”

“No.” Bill says firmly. He adds, “I don’t mix work and playtime like you apparently do, Saporta.”

“So serious,” Gabe drawls, ending the words with a hiss that lingers in the short distance between their mouths. Bill keeps his attention focused on Saporta’s eyes to prevent the detective from getting ahead of himself, but Saporta’s not the only one being tempted. 

“You know, as the boss, you can set your own hours,” Saporta says, dark eyes narrowing. “Set aside time for work, time for play, time for other recreational activities.” He inches forwards a bit more so that his lips almost brush against Bill’s when he speaks next. “Or are you the type of boss who bans that kind of thing. Workplace romance?”

Bill doesn’t move. “I’m not a dictator. My people do what they want and they’re responsible enough not to let it affect their productivity.”

“The people I work with get to do what they want too,” Saporta says softly. “It might affect their productivity, but it improves their work ethic like nothing else.”

Bill’s small smirk widens. “So how’s your work ethic right now, Detective Saporta?” He tilts his head to the side, finally inviting Saporta to cross the remaining distance.

Saporta licks his lips and his tongue traces over Bill’s lips in the same movement. “It could be better,” he whispers against Bill’s mouth. Saporta leans forward. His lips gradually press against Bill’s. Bill takes in the lingering minty flavor that coats Saporta’s mouth and the chapstick-softness of his skin. He would enjoy this and much more if, at that moment, they were not startled apart by a tacky dance song ringtone blasting out of Saporta’s pocket.

Bill seizes Saporta’s tie and almost drags the detective off balance, smashing their faces roughly together. He lets Saporta lick hesitantly into his mouth while Bill stealthily sneaks his hand into Saporta’s pocket and retrieves the phone. Bill then pushes Saporta away, chuckles as he watches him tumble off the desk, and unlocks the phone to answer it.

“Detective Gabe Saporta’s phone,” Bill says.

“Is that Beckett?” Detective Asher’s voice echoes in the small office. “Did Gabe fucking leave his cell lying around after your meeting?”

“No,” Bill answers. “He hasn’t even started telling me what he wants to know. Currently, Detective Saporta is trying to get a discount on my information by poorly seducing me. I think I’ll raise my price, just for that. I hope whoever hired you is paying enough that you can fuck around like this.”

Saporta lunges off the floor and grabs his phone out of Bill’s hands. “No, no, Vicky, I swear I’m working seriously on this!”

Bill gets out of his desk chair and hauls Saporta out of the room by yanking on his tie again. Detective Asher and someone else who might be Detective Blackinton are arguing incoherently over Saporta’s sputtered defenses.

“You can finish your phone call in the lobby downstairs, Detective,” Bill says sweetly. “I would also recommend setting an actual appointment with Tony this time.”

Saporta looks hopefully over his shoulder at Bill. “Appointment for today or next Saturday?”

Bill leans against his doorframe and winks at Saporta. “If you hurry and if you’re _nice_ , you might get a three o’clock timeslot for today and five to nine next Saturday.”

He refrains from laughing at the way Saporta races towards the stairs. But he does end up laughing when Michael returns with the briefcase and says, “Tony was sure that it would take another month and a half before you told him yes.”

“Why Michael, were my own friends betting on this?”

Michael keeps his face carefully empty and opens up the briefcase again. Bill chuckles and bends down to take his gloves out again. “If you had a part in that, I should hope it was on the winning side.”

“I owe Adam five pizzas, but Tony owes both of us three hundred dollars each,” Michael informs Bill smugly. 

Bill finds that rather funny and somewhat flattering.


End file.
